


Black Arts

by Celievamp



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-10
Updated: 2011-10-10
Packaged: 2017-10-24 11:46:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/263143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celievamp/pseuds/Celievamp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rediscovering what is important.</p><p>Spoilers:  brief references to Past & Present, Rite of Passage, Legacy, Seth.  Set season 5ish.</p><p>Originally written c. 2004</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Arts

I think I first started to think about it after we encountered Linea again. Okay, so she called herself Kyra now and didn’t remember anything about Linea, anything about being the ‘Destroyer of Worlds’. It frightened me how twisted she had become, how easy it would be to go the same way. Even when she was ‘good’ she was a little too willing to cut corners, a little too ruthless with the way she was willing to use her test subjects.

It is possible to know too much. I don’t think I could ever become that way. Really, I don’t. Not willingly. I have Sam and I have Cassie to keep me right, to be my better angels. But the more we see of the way things are out there, the things that people have done just to stay alive, I don’t know. Whatever oaths I have sworn to follow as a doctor, I am also a soldier. I have to follow military orders. And sometimes that can be a damn unsavoury thing. I know all too clearly that I could be ordered to use my knowledge the way Linea did. And I know that my feelings in the matter would not be an issue outside the confines of my own head. And if whatever it was proved a threat to those I love, to Sam or god forbid, to Cassie, then I don’t think I would have any feelings anyway.

I remember how it felt holding the gun to Nirrti’s head. Absolutely right and yet absolutely wrong at the same time. I would have killed her whether Hammond ordered me to stand down or not. My little girl was dying and there was nothing I could do. I hate feeling helpless.

O’Neill calls me the Napoleonic powermonger. He admires my strength, my self-control. He trusts me to get the job done, to put him and his team back together. I try not to let him down. Only once… when I let MacKenzie persuade me that Daniel’s behaviour was the result of psychosis rather than a physical cause. Never again.

Only Sam sees me lose control. Only Sam sees me with the barriers down. I trust her. I love her. I know she would never hurt me or take advantage of my need to submit to another. We don’t play the game very often, but every time we do the scenario evolves a little further, goes a little deeper, a little darker. But only here. Inside this room. And only when we both want to play. Need to play.

Sam needs this as much as I do. She has her own issues to deal with. Being able to use Goa’uld technology disturbs her. The fact that she can kill with a thought. Even though she is career military, that thought is thankfully alien to her. We are well matched.

The black leather looks good on her, the trousers and cropped top. The contrast with her creamy skin, the subtle definition of her muscles under the skin of her stomach and her arms makes me gasp. Sometimes I forget just how beautiful she is, how strong she is. As we begin she is always gentle, reassuring me as she fiddles with the silk scarf that knots around my wrists, pinioning my hands behind my back. My ankles are loosely hobbled with another scarf. The black velvet tied over my eyes blinds me but I can still see her in my mind. I kneel on the quilt on the floor, all my other senses heightened as I hear her move about the room making her preparations. I let my head fall forwards.

“Sit up straight,” she hisses. “Did I tell you that you could move?” We begin to play our parts. Something touches my breast, just a flick and then I am alone again. I sit straighter, arch my back, let my breasts speak for themselves. I sense her behind me, close, closer. Something touches my throat, a shiver of silk as another scarf loops snakelike around my throat and I feel electricity go through me from my extremities to my core. I can feel my heart begin to beat a little faster just from that, my breath hisses in my throat. She runs her hands across my bare shoulders, down my pinioned arms. I feel her breath on the back of my neck, then my ear lobe. She murmurs something that might be I love you and then bites swiftly. I buck, moan softly.

“Silence,” she whispers. “Or you will be punished, my love.” Her arm circles my waist, and I can feel her breasts pressed against my back. One palm is flat against my abdomen. Her other hand caresses my throat again before her fingers trail down to my cleavage. The hand on my abdomen moves to my hip and her weight shifts, pushing me down, her hand moving round to caress my ass as she kisses and bites her way down my spine, raising bruises on my skin. I gasp again, whisper her name, my body already tensing as I feel her open palm swat against my right buttock.

“You need discipline, my love” she whispered again, her hands positioning my body. “You need to be taught a lesson. I did not give you permission to use my name.” She swats my ass again and then a third time. The heat sizzles through me and for a moment I think the blindfold has slipped, the light behind my closed eyelids is so bright. I feel her lips on the small hurts she has just made as she kisses lightly and then sucks, bringing the blood to the surface, marking me hers. She pushes my legs a little further apart, her fingers caressing the sensitive skin between, circling the ring of muscle. I feel her shift her weight again, my hands crushed between us. Her breath is warm and moist on the back of my neck as she nuzzles the top of my spine. I feel her teeth graze my skin again as her finger penetrates me. I shudder, feeling all my muscles suddenly weaken. It takes great effort, but I do not speak. I am obedient. She parts my thighs a little further, pushing my knees apart. I hear the zipper on her leather pants slowly part. Something cool and wet is rubbed across my skin, her fingers toying with my folds, caressing, rubbing, pinching. I am lifted again and then laid down over a pillow under my hips. Something hard yet yielding, quasi flesh, the soft moulded plastic probing at me as she positions herself, the fingers of one of her hands guiding the toy into me, her other hand flat over my ribs to hold me securely.

I feel so safe so loved that I am dizzy. The toy is firmly seated inside me, joining us. She moves her hips and it presses into me filling me fucking me. Sam undulates against me, her breath hot against my back. Her free hand is now wrapped in the scarf around my throat. I can stop this any time I want but I don’t want to. I want it to finish. I want to fall, to fly as only she can make it happen. She times it to perfection as she senses my arousal is about to peak. Her hand tightens slightly, my breath shuts off and the dizziness grows almost painful and I fall into red and black as my body shudders, ripples of heat from my centre to my extremities. It is the best yet, the best ever. I am safe. I am loved. I willingly lose control, give myself to her.

I am boneless, weightless, will-less. The scarf is gone from around my throat, my hands untied, the scarf still looped around one wrist. My eyes are still blindfolded. My head is resting against her shoulder, her hands stroking my body where it lies across her lap, her voice whispering that I did well, that she is pleased with me. I can smell her excitement. I nuzzle at her, she shifts and I am rewarded with one of her nipples against my lips. I lave it with my tongue as her long fingers cup me. Her index finger extends inside me, stroking me as the heel of her hand presses harder against me. I am still sensitive so I come quickly, crying out her name. Now it is my turn to pleasure her. I slide down her body, operating by touch and smell. She stands up, one hand still entwined in my hair. I feel for the zip on her leather trousers, slide it slowly down then push the warm leather down her slim hips. She steps out of them and kicks them away. I unbuckle the harness, ease it from her body. There is nothing else between us now. No barrier, no toys, no deception. I nose at her, hear her gasp as my tongue teases her gently. My hands rest on her slim thighs. I can feel her muscles twitch and jump as she fights the urge to collapse. One of her hands is twined gently in my hair, holding my head in place. Her other hand is probably bracing herself against the wall. I can hear her breathing shorten, coming in moaning gasps. I hear my name chanted softly, a mantra. I move my hands up her thighs to touch her core. I inhale the scent of her arousal. She is very close. I nuzzle at her, flick out my tongue to catch her juices as my finger slides inside her. I ease her legs further apart, run the flat of my tongue along the length of her slit and then add a second finger. My lips find the nub of her clit, play with it a while, rolling my tongue across it. I feel her muscles clench, hear her cry out my name, declaim to the walls how much she loves me. I don’t need to see her; I know so well the sated yet wanton expression on her face, the flush across her face and chest. Her sweet honey fills my mouth, drips from my chin. She bucks against me, her fingers tightening in my hair and then she begins to fall but I am ready for her as she slumps over me and I lower her safely to the floor.

I feel her hands on my face as she licks the stray juices from my cheeks and mouth and we exchange a wet open kiss. She removes the blindfold and I blink in the dim light. Being able to see again is redundant. My mind supplied what my eyes could not, I know her so well, I love her so deeply. She rolls onto her back taking me with her and I straddle her, wriggling down until our cores are touching. Our joined hands positioned between us we begin to rock. Our eyes never leave each other’s faces as we silently will each other to hold on to make this last as long as possible.

I hold out longer than Sam but the sight of her face as the orgasm takes her takes me as well and my cries join hers. I fall across her body, still shaking, feel her arms go around me hold me, her kisses soft on my brow and cheek as she brings me safely home.

This is who I am, all I want to be. Sam’s lover. Cassie’s mother. The rest is meaningless. The job is the job. It is what I do. It is not who I am. I open my eyes as Sam drags the cover from the bed and pulls it over us. She softly sings me to sleep in her arms.


End file.
